


Songs of Snow and Stone

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bending (Avatar), F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: A collection of Jon x Sansa ficlets under 500 words.





	1. shame is unspeakable (i shall speak out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “My parents asked about you.”
> 
> By law, foster siblings may not become romantically involved. Years after they owned to a mistake made, Sansa and Jon refuse to be ashamed that their love lives on.

“My parents asked about you.”

Jon winced at the mention of Ned and Catelyn Stark, but he forced himself to put down the dish he’d been washing and turn around to face her. “It couldn’t have been as bad as I’m imagining if you’re smiling like that.”

“It was surprisingly nice.” She placed the Tupperware containers holding their leftovers in the fridge. “They asked me to visit for Christmas, and they want me to bring you with me.” At her lover’s dubious expression, she stepped closer until she could slide her arms around his neck, toying with the hair at his nape. “I think it’s genuine, Jon. I think we should take them up on it. It’s about time they realized the difference between us doing something wrong and us together being wrong.”

Jon sighed, tipping his head to rest his forehead against hers. They had always known they’d done wrong, that becoming romantically involved as foster siblings put everything around them in jeopardy, but it was the family’s refusal to accept them being together afterward that hurt the most. 

They’d done everything right after that first mistake (sleeping together under the Starks’ roof and being discovered after)- accepted the distance put between them for those few months between Jon turning eighteen and Sansa graduating, restrained the desire to move in together right away by dating properly and letting Sansa spent her first year in the dorms. They saw no reason to deny themselves after that.

Sansa stroked her fingers down his cheek. “I love you, Jon, and I refuse to be ashamed of that.”

“No shame,” he agreed. “I love you, too, Sansa. So much.”


	2. Z

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Where have you been, I was ready to call the police!” 
> 
> It's time to get out of Winterfell.

“Where have you  _been_ , I was ready to call the police!” 

There was more worry than anger in Sansa’s voice, as Jon slammed the door shut behind him and frantically locked it behind him, chain lock included. A lump rose in her throat when he turned around, looking pale and harried. Frenetic energy seemed to radiate from him as he rushed to the hallway closet and began to dig through.

Dragging out the backpacks they used when hiking, he handed one to her and gave her a push toward the kitchen. “Fill this with as much food and water bottles as you can.” He didn’t wait for a reply, slamming open their miscellaneous drawer. When he pulled out a pack of matches, she realized his hands were shaking.

“Jon!”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and frantic. “Jon. what’s going on?”

He took in a deep, unsteady breath and rested his trembling hand on her shoulder. “It’s…I can barely believe it myself. What’s important, is we need to get out of here. Right now. Trust me?”

“Always.”

He nodded, fishing out a flashlight from the drawer. “I’m going to look for batteries. Is the SUV’s tank full?”

“Yeah.” She leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’ll got get the food. Meet back here in five?”

“That’s my girl.”


	3. Superhuman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Well that’s the single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen someone do.”
> 
> When Jon saves his foster sister from a crash, his secret is exposed.

“Well that’s the single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen someone do.”

Jon froze as the meaning of her words penetrated his mind, leaving him with the stark realization that his foster sister had witnessed him tear off a car door with his bare hands. This was bad, this was very, very bad. Ned’s number one rule since the kind man had rescued him from the lab was that absolutely no one could ever find out about his abilities, including his foster siblings. Eyeing the cut on Sansa’s forehead, he wondered if he could convince her that she had been hallucinating.

She stirred against him with a soft sigh. “Jon, please look at me.”

Jon hesitated for a moment, and then he looked up to meet Sansa’s compassionate eyes. She gently laid a hand against his cheek. “Jon, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Jon swallowed, and as he spoke, his voice came out small and child-like in its vulnerability. “Promise?”

“I promise.”


	4. Under the Weirwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Explain it to me again - why do we need to pretend to be married?”
> 
> is determined to see a happy ending to her game. Jon finds he can't deny her.

“Explain it to me again -  _why_  do we need to pretend to be married?”

Jon scowled when Sansa gave him a look of condescending exasperation that made her look far too much like Lady Stark. “Because the prince and the maiden always get married at the end of the stories, Jon!”

“That’s hard to do when your septon is drooling on Nan’s skirts.”

Sansa whirled around to indeed find Arya slumped over asleep at Nan’s feet. She stomped her foot indigiantly, but was the picture of innocent as Nan looked up and tutted at them. She lifted Arya into her arms and slowly rose to her feet, her knees audibly groaning as she went. “I’ll return soon, children, as soon as I’ve laid your sister down. Behave.”

After their nurse had left, Jon rolled his eyes and huffed, daring to glance over at his half-sister. He gaped as he found her not pouting as he had expected, but sitting dejected, tears pooling in her pretty blue eyes. He rushed over.

He took her hand. “Don’t cry, Sanny. Come on, we’ll marry ourselves.”

Jon gently let her into the godswood, and standing before the weirwood, they stumbled their way through the lines only vaguely remembered from ceremonies they had witnessed. And Jon found that as he wrapped his black cloak around her shoulders, he didn’t mind the cold: Sansa’s bright smile warmed him through and through.


	5. Fixation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cheiloproclitic, being attracted to someone's lips

This really was ridiculous.

Sansa wasn't sure when her fixation with Jon's mouth began, but she suspected it had something to do with her first discovery that Jon was an incredible kisser. He was tender and attentive, taking his time to build up the moment but never failing to thoroughly ravish her senses. His talents didn't just apply to the lips on her face, either, something she recalled with agonizing intensity as she sat through a four-course family dinner seated across from him, watching every time he wrapped those full lips around his fork or spoon.

Dessert was an entirely new level of torture. Her mother had made chocolate mousee. It was all she could do not to start squirming in her chair.

Finally, after the table had been cleared and everyone had retired to their own amusements, she caught Jon on his way back from the bathroom and dragged him into her childhood bedroom.

Her poor boyfriend looked confused and frankly more than a little concerned as she latched the lock and turned to face him. “Jon,” she whimpered softly, morified by the needy whine.

Thankfully, Jon knew her better than she thought. His eyes quickly filled with understanding and he smiled gently as he backed her toward the bed, urging her to sit on the edge. And as he lifted her skirt and moved to kneel before her, Sansa had one resounding thought before she completely lost the ability.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.


	6. Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's gentleness would be her undoing.

From the time they met again as adults, Jon’s quiet, gentle ways were so strange to her. So different from everything she had known in their years apart, he was so gentle toward her, with his soft looks and careful touch. Even that night when they finally gave in to their attraction and connection, he was gentle, patient, pressing a reverent kiss to her hand and whispering, “There’s no going back if we do this.”

“I don’t want to go back, Jon. I want you.”

His body was muscled and firm against her, his arms strong, but he held her tenderly, kissing her with a slow, languorous passion. His touches were light and lingering, warm fingers stroking along her back, her arms, her stomach, her hips. With every touch, she could feel his gentleness begin to undo the damage of the past, her defenses falling away as unceremoniously as the clothing they discarded.

As her small-clothes fell away and she stood naked and vulnerable before him, she watched silently as his eyes slowly trailed over her body, the imprint of their intensity nearly tangible against her skin. When she shivered in response, it was with excitement rather than nerves.

No, the last thing she wanted was to go back. Instead, when she took that final step closer, his arms coming up to wrap around her, it was the past she left behind in her wake, embracing the rich future his gentle love had to offer.


	7. Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wonders at Jon's shyness.

At first, Sansa hadn’t quite known what to make of his shyness. Used to the self-assured arrogance of Joffrey and Harry, Jon’s nervous fidgeting, blushes and tendency to stutter when she flirted had completely baffled her. But by their third date (a proper sit-down dinner this time, though the coffee meeting and photo exhibit at the art gallery had been very pleasant), she had decided his tentative courtship was incredibly endearing. It was cute to watch him flush all to the tips of his ears anytime she paid him a compliment, to drum his fingers and bite his lip as he gathered the courage to reach for her hand, to render him stammering when she met him at the door when he came to pick her up. It was always worth it to see that shy little smile, to feel his strong, calloused hand curl so gently around hers, to hear him whisper how beautiful she looked with soft, genuine appreciation.

Jon was a perfect gentleman and she couldn’t have appreciated it more. He and Robb had been best friends since they were children and Jon had been enough on the periphery to witness the disaster that was Joffrey’s cruelty and Harry’s infidelity. They seemed to be taking their time, Jon so respectful of her space and comfort, but the problem was…slow was beginning to border on glacial.

Their third date was drawing to a close and they hadn’t yet shared a kiss. As Jon walked her to her door, Sansa was beginning to wonder if there was more to it. Just as Jon had been there for her dating history, she had seen his. He had been devastated when his then-fiancee, Ygritte, had left him, and from what Sansa had pieced together from Robb, his dating attempts since then had been less than stellar.

As they paused in the hallway outside her apartment, Sansa turned to her date. He was fidgeting, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at the bland gray carpet. The shy glances he kept throwing her way through his lashes were adorable and something clicked in her mind. She hesitated for only a moment, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear before she took a breath and made her move. “Jon, can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah.”

She stepped closer, tilting her chin up to carefully brush her lips against his. It was the most fragile kiss she had ever experienced, soft and barely tangible. She placed a hand at the back of his neck, letting her fingers lightly tangle in the curls at his nap and Jon took in a sharp breath before he tentatively touched his fingers to her cheek. His mouth opened slightly under hers, a full body shudder coursing through him, and then they were kissing in earnest. Her arms twined around his neck, his own sliding around her waist, and it was only through sheer force of will that Sansa was able to pull away to check his reaction. She dared to open her eyes and consequently met his.

With one kiss, she had managed to break through Jon’s infamous reserve. His eyes were glittering with barely restrained emotion, full of dark promise. She shivered, her body’s visceral reaction to that promise, making it clear she was very, very wanted, and if she chose to accept, she was going to enjoy every moment of what he had planned.

“Jon, do you want to come in?”


	8. Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A misunderstanding with the Free Folk proves to be more true than Jon and Sansa realizes.

“Jon?”

“Hmm?” was his distracted reply, occupied as he was with the pile of reports he was reading.

Sansa hesitated for a moment, studying the man seated beside her in her solar. “You’re quite familiar with Free Folk culture, yes? How they view marriage?”

“Aye.” Jon shuffled the pages and scowled at something written on the missive. “You’re not still upset that Toregg chose Winterfell to be his setting for his stealing, are you? I think the arm Val dislocated and the ear she nearly bit off were punishment enough.”

“No, it’s not that.” She shifted in her chair and stole another glance at him. His frown had relaxed, though his expression stayed rather serious. She wondered when she had started looking at him and not seeing his haunting resemblance to her late father, but rather Jon himself. And why had she never before noticed how handsome his stern features could be, especially when he let them soften into a smile?

“Are you aware that the Free Folk in the Gift consider me to be your wife?”

Jon froze, papers falling from hand as he gaped at her. “W-what?”

“Apparently your rescue of me from the Vale constitutes as stealing me.”

Jon immediately turned bashful and he shook his head. “I didn’t rescue anyone. By the time I got there, you were ruling as Lady in your own right with Baelish stashed away in the moon cells.”

“Nonsense,” she gently reprimanded, “I had enemies pressing down on me from all sides. Brienne surely would have died trying to protect me from all of it. I’ve never been more relieved then when you and your men rode into that courtyard.”

Jon nodded, an endearing blush coloring his pale cheeks. “It’s months since then. How could things have been so misunderstood?”

Sansa stood from her chair, lifted her skirts and perched herself in his lap. Jon could only blink in bewilderment, placing his hands to steady her. “Sansa?”

“I think we’ve been the ones confused. What would your thoughts be on making this misunderstanding a reality?”

That smile she loved so much appeared on his lips and Sansa knew she had her answer.


	9. Afternoon Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little thing that includes Jon and Sansa picnicking in the godswood. Sort of.

It was difficult to find time to spare when it came to the day-to-day demands of running a castle, especially one in the middle of reconstruction. The central keep had been restored before the worst of winter had set in, but now that spring and then summer had arrived, it was time to return Winterfell to her former glory.

Mid-afternoon, when the sun was at its highest and the laborers recessed out of necessity, when Rickon was finally wrangled into lessons with the maester, was the only time they ever truly found themselves alone.

It always started the same. Some time during the morning, they would cross paths and their eyes would meet. Subtle smiles, the simplest of gestures, and plans were made.

Their meeting place was an isolated spot in the godswood. In the shade of a massive ancient tree, the mess of thick, gnarled roots at the base opened on a short slope, revealing a recess in the earth. A soft layer of moss and grass had since grown in, blanketing the bowl of the small niche. There, they could feel safe and sheltered in their moments of intimacy and vulnerability.

This day, his artful fingers and talented mouth were at work at the apex of her thighs. He brought her to her peak, once, twice, three times before she could take no more.

“You’re a wicked, wicked…“ she trailed off and sighed, “Wonderful man.” Her lethargic languor was so strong she could do little more than speak, not bothering to open her eyes.

He smirked, turning his head to press a kiss to her thigh. He wrapped his arms around her waist, scooting up to pillow his head against her stomach. He sighed contently as she brought a hand up to stroke his hair, a soft smile curving her lips as she watched his face go slack with relief and peace at the touch. “You realize we’ve completely missed the point of a picnic, my love.”

“Did we? I think I had quite the feast set out before me.”

Her face flushed as red as her hair and he chuckled. “It’s sad I can’t tell Cook that you chose me first over her lemoncakes. I think that’s the highest compliment I’ve ever received.”

Sansa huffed, swatting at his shoulder, and reached over to begin unwrapping the food they had brought with them. With each revelation- soft-boiled eggs, cold chicken, fresh bread and blackberry preserves, she had more and more of Jon’s attention. “And I suppose you’re not hungry

at all?”

A loud growling from Jon’s middle answered the question.

The lemoncakes were eventually devoured as well, though how their frosting ended up smeared across Jon’s chest, neither truly knew. And what better way to have it cleaned up, than Sansa licking a teasing swathe down his torso?


	10. Burn, Baby, Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avatar: the Last Airbender AU

There was something stolid and grave about Jon Snow that Sansa always thought was more befitting an earthbender, but the blazing heat of his skin made clear his Valyrian heritage came through here even if it wasn’t evident anywhere else.

The deep, guttural groan of relief that left him when she spread the healing water over the deep burns on his back was far too distracting, all too similar to the sounds of pleasure he made in those rare times they could find the privacy to share a bedroll.

It took all her effort to keep her expression unaffected, all too aware of Robb’s watchful eye (honestly, the last thing they needed was her overprotective brother finding out she’d taken a firebender prince as a lover) but as Jon continued to make little sighs and murmurs of gratitude, it was hard to regret seeing him relaxed and content…even if they weren’t alone.


	11. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jon x Sansa confession "I'm sorry, I know is not honorable to feel what I do" "I don't care, it's not honorable to feel what I do either" (before they find out about R+L=J)

Sansa gasped as Jon’s lips met hers and he pulled back immediately, looking so absolutely wretched with guilt Sansa felt tears fill her eyes, tangling her fingers through his hair and tipping his forehead back against hers when he moved to pull away.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he breathed out, voice thick and broken as if a sob was stuck in his throat, “I’ve tried so hard not to feel this way.”

“Me too, Jon, me too.”


	12. Mine to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOTR Aragorn/Arwen AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for aliceofalonso, for her lovely LOTR edit done for gameofshipschallenges:
> 
> http://aliceofalonso.tumblr.com/post/129784055103/gameofshipschallenges-text-bind-yourself-to

He had changed so much from the fresh-faced youth raised in her father's hall. If not for her regard for him, she could so easily forget the fragile mortality of Men. He was tall and strong, his beard had grown in rich and full, squared off handsomely against his strong jaw. He was a boy no longer, further evidenced by the lines forming around his eyes and mouth, the scars she knew were hidden beneath leather and cloth.

They whispered softly of their first meeting, her heart giving a delighted flutter when he equated it to walking into a dream. The shadows in his eyes, the burdened slope to his shoulders, slowly began to alleviate as she spoke of the promises she had made him, hoping against his best intentions.

He tried to protest as she slipped the pendant into his hand, but still his fingers curled around hers, his eyes holding hers with a spark of something other than defeat and despair.

“You cannot give me this,” he breathed incredulously.

“It is mine to give to whom I will,” she reassured, “Like my heart.”

When they kissed, it was the sweetest sensation she had ever experienced. Her father and brothers would not be pleased, but Sansa of Riverdell had made her choice.

A mortal life, with her mortal love.


	13. free love will not be bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reverse-Gender Arthurian AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for aliceofalonso, for last year's Jon x Sansa remix. Jon as Guinevere, Sansa as Lancelot, and Daenerys as Arthur.
> 
> http://aliceofalonso.tumblr.com/tagged/arthurian-au

_Queen in the North_ , was what adoring Northern eyes seemed to whisper whenever they fell on their lady. For all that Daenerys denied her the sovereignty, there was no denying that Sansa was winter's queen, steel and ice wrapped in a deceptive package of ivory and silk. She stole his breath quicker than the Northern cold, the moment her lips touched his.

Daenerys thought to claim him, but how were fire and blood supposed to find a place in his heart when he could hold a she-wolf in his arms, feel her whisper sweet words of love and home against his skin?

xx

She'd been right, it was so, so sweet to see him again. Sweet as kisses he pressed to her brow, her cheek, catching her lips by mistake and then lingering when she pulled him closer. She wanted to weep the first time she saw him fitted in crimson and black, the wolf within wanted to tear the clothes from him, wanted to snarl and snap at Daenerys' hand in his.

And after they had been found out, when she was told the Dragon Queen planned to burn him for treason, she had wanted to laugh- had she forgotten that Jon had survived the flames once before? But still, she would not stand idle- her people knew where her heart lay, knew who their true prince was meant to be. Silk to ivory to steel, she donned her armor and southward they marched.


	14. Jelly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod x Abbie AU. 
> 
> How he can still make her knees a little weak with a face covered in jelly and powered sugar, she would never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Jon x Sansa Remix 2016.

“Leftenant, is this really necessary?”

Sansa wanted so badly to smirk at the petulant tone the grown man before her affected, but she held strong to her impassive expression. “Yes, it is. You’ve been acting strange all week, Snow. I don’t know when you forgot that I know exactly when you’re hiding something from me, but you might as well give it up.” She pointedly shook the bag she held. “You don’t, I’m definitely not going to share.”

The amount of longing with which Jon looked at the bag of powdered jelly donuts so bordered on forlorn, Sansa was sure he was going to hold strong. Then with a heavy, world-weary sigh that deflated his tall, lanky frame, Snow held up his hands in surrender. “Very well, Leftenant, if you truly insist that you must know this information. Miss Arya is planning a birthday celebration in your honor, and asked me to aid her in the preparation.

“That’s…” Not what she was expecting at all. She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then her lips curled into a soft smile. “That’s actually really nice.”

“Yes, well.” Huffing indignantly, he drew himself back up proudly, an obvious attempt to regain some of his dignity and composure.

Oh, it really would be bad for his confidence if she started giggling, right? She shook her head amusedly, tossing the bag his way. “There you go. Quid pro quo.”

Jon tore into the proffered treats voraciously. The happy, hungry noises he was making were almost disturbingly sexual, if the flash of heat that went through her was any indication.

“Are you sure you’re almost two hundred and forty? Even Arya could mostly keep her food off her face by the time she started school.” She huffed out a chuckle, grabbing a napkin from her pocket to wipe away the blob of jelly at the corner of his mouth, the powdered sugar coating his mustache. “There. Really, Snow, what would you do without me?”

The look he gave her in return was so suddenly and impossibly gentle and warm and full of affection, Sansa could only describe it was _tender_. Her heart pounded.

“I have no intention of ever finding out, Leftenant. Of that you have my most solemn oath.”


	15. there is a man underneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman- Bruce/Selina AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for aliceofalonso for this year's Jon x Sansa Remix. http://jonxsansaremix.livejournal.com/25137.html

A symbol is steadfast, impermeable, unchanging. But the man behind the symbol is only human- rundown and weary down to his bones, an old man and a cripple now. Was it any wonder that he abandoned that symbol when his own mortal vulnerability failed him? He’d left behind the violence and brutality of the night for the true dark, the quiet slow decay of letting himself wallow in his grief and weakness.

She relit his spark with her fire, her wit, her cunning, sharp quips and a restless energy beneath her skin to see something better in the world despite her jaded exterior. Justifiably bitter, but the hope inside hadn’t been snuffed out completely, no matter what she said otherwise. She was young, vivacious, and so full of potential. How could he not find his hope again in return?


	16. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Tumblr Prompt, "Button."

Jon forgot what it was to breathe as Sansa slowly worked his buttons free, fingertips grazing teasingly against his skin as she went but never lingering long enough to satisfy the ache building inside. When she reached the last, she paused, letting her pinkie circle his navel, and Jon sucked in a breath.

She raised her eyes to meet his, biting her lip as she studied him contemplatively. Pushing the folds of his shirt aside, she swallowed back a moan of appreciation at the perfection presented to her, reverently tracing the hard ridge of each chiseled abdominal. Jon trembled beneath her touch, and she remembered her purpose, smoothing her hands to explore the rest of him. His coarse dark hair tickled against her palms, nearly distracting from the deep furrows of scar tissue she encountered again and again.

“Is this what you were so afraid to show me? Silly man.” She skimmed her hands up to his shoulders, letting her hands link at the base of his neck. She pressed a kiss just above his heart, letting her cheek smooth over a  _very_  firm pectoral. Smart, sexy, kind,  _and_  built. How did she ever dismiss him as her brother’s boring loner friend?

“My very own David in the flesh,” she mused warmly. “Michelangelo himself couldn’t do better.”

Sansa was delighted to see a light dusting of pink in his cheeks, more eager than ever to get him out of those jeans as well. She wanted to see all the places she could get him to flush.


	17. Ugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt, "Oh my god, you're in love with her!"
> 
> Arya doesn't react the way Jon expects to his relationship with her sister.

“Oh my gods, you’re in love with her!”

Jon wasn’t sure how it was possible for a person’s face to display that much sheer disgust, but somehow Arya pulled it off. He found himself bouncing between irritated and ashamed, the presence of the shame only making his irritation grow. Arya was his little sister in everything but blood, and he hated little more than to disappoint her, but it rankled him that someone who claimed to care for him the same way would look so disdainful of something that made him so happy.

“Arya-”

“I caught you doing the walk of shame last week…I congratulated you on getting over Ygritte!”

“Wha…?” His irritation and hurt faded into bewilderment, and then a mix of embarrassment and amusement as understanding began to ever so slowly set in, along with the memory of Arya catching him coming back to his own apartment just after dawn.

“Ugh, you even smelled like sex!! Gross.” She began making gagging sounds.

Jon barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Arya…”

Arya held up her hand, continuing to pantomime gagging with a cacophony of other disgusted noises.

“Very mature.”


	18. Adore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt, "Gossip Girl, Chuck x Blair AU."

“I wanna talk,” she said simply, leading him by the hand further into the bedroom. Of course he made a quip in return, something he thought was clever and flirtatious. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, taking a seat on the sofa.

“What do you think about my coat?”

“I like it,” he replied with a puzzled smile. “Why?”

Sansa undid the buttons to the coat, letting it slide off her shoulders and onto the floor. “And now?”

“Even better.”

She placed one hand on his shoulder for balance, planting her foot next to him and pulling up the hem of her skirt to reveal the dark stockings underneath. “And my stockings?”

His hand came up to caress her thigh, thumb stroking beneath the stocking’s elastic and beginning to inch it downward. “Oh,” he husked, elongating the sound. “I adore them.”

“And my dress?” she asked softly, letting the silver gown pool to the floor.

His eyes were intense as he dragged them down her body, and then back up to meet her gaze. “I worship it.”

His hands went to her hips as she stepped closer, cupping his face. She swallowed back her nerves, pushed away how distant he had been since Rhaegar died, and focused on the reality of everything lying unspoken between them. “And how to do you feel about me?” She caressed his cheek, searching his face. “Say it.”  _Say it, Jon. Please. Tell me I’m not alone in this._

Vulnerability filled his eyes, and he swallowed, but he didn’t break their locked gaze. “I…I love you.”

There wasn’t time to process her disbelieving joy before Jon reversed their positions, nudging her back against the couch. Kneeling above her, he began stripping down to his shirtsleeves, tossing his tie and jacket aside without the barest regard. “I love you,” he repeated, his tone firmer, more confident than before. “I adore every lovely, wonderful inch of you. Let me show you how much.”


	19. Safe Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the JonxSansa Fanfiction’s 15 Days of Valentine’s Event. Day #12: Stuck Together (Elevator Edition)

“Breathe for me, sweetling. Slow and easy.”

The tender voice in her ear, the gentle fingers brushing her hair aside to stroke the back of her neck, worked to ground her. The solidarity of him pressed to her back, the strong arms wrapped around her, anchored her to the moment, lest she slip back into the past or let her mind overwhelm itself with panic once more. 

“That’s it, lovely girl. In and out.”

Sansa focused on the rise and fall of his chest, slowly but surely matching her breathing to his. The tension drained away, Sansa sinking further into the shelter of his body as his warmth seeped into her.  "Thank you, Jon.“

Dark save for the occasional glow of his cellphone as he checked for updates, she couldn’t see his face, but she felt him smile against her cheek. "You’re welcome, Sans. Just remember that I’m here, okay? We’re going to get through this together.”

“Together sounds nice.” She snuggled closer still. “Tell me something to distract me?”

“Sure. Did I ever tell you about the time Robb tried stage diving and ended up landing on a buffet table? I can’t officially confirm tequila was involved, but he did smell like a distillery.”


	20. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sansa thinks Jon should marry Daenerys so he can rule from the Iron throne. This is the best way to make sure no one will ever threaten them from the north or the south. But Jon has other plans. He decides to seduce Sansa.

He slid a hand between her legs to feel the wetness of her arousal. She whimpered softly at the intimate touch, the longing for him growing to intensified proportions as he rubbed his fingers against her, tugging her smallclothes down to slip two fingers inside her. 

Her responding cry of pleasure was smothered by his mouth finding hers, tongue lithely sliding passed the seam of her lips, eager to taste her. She returned the kiss with the same heated passion, her hips rocking in rhythm with his hand, lost in sensory euphoria as his fingers moved inside her.   
  
The sweet tension and building pleasure spiraled higher and higher, guided by the ardor of his kiss, the heat of his body as he pressed close to her, the incredible sensuality of his touch. 

His hand stopped suddenly and pulled away, Sansa making a sound of protest at the loss and then gasping with surprise a moment late as he dropped to his knees, further pushing up the skirt of her dress as his mouth replaced his fingers when she ached for him the most. 

She arched hungrily against him, desperate to feel more of him, a muffled whimper escaping her as she bit down hard on her lip to keep from making any sound that would draw attention to them. He gripped her hips, feeling his body’s answering ache as his trousers tightened almost painfully, and he caressed her harder, deeper, adding his fingers to aid in the sensual torture.  
  
Unable to hold out any longer, she clung to him, her breath going shallow and her body quivering with tension, nails biting down into his shoulders as she came. Jon rose to his feet and embraced her as her weakened legs gave out, her body falling against him. He held her tightly; feeling her tremble in the lasting throes of her climax, brushing back her sweat-damp curls as he lightly kissed her temple.

“I don’t want to marry her. Sansa,” he whispered against her brow. “I don’t want that cursed throne. But I won’t shirk my duty. Ask me one last time and I won’t refuse. But if you want the same as I do, if you want to build a life with me, to stand strong and hold the North together, just say the word.”

Sansa stirred in his arms, pulling back enough to hold his gaze. “I won’t ask you again. She can’t have you. You belong to the North, Jon Snow.”  _And me._ The words went unspoken, but they both knew them to be true. He had been hers since the moment they had been reunited at the Wall, and no sense of misguided honor and duty could refute that. 


	21. Aggressive Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Every time I look at these spoilers I get so angry. It bothers me that Jon will bend the knee and do other things... I want Sansa to be angry with him. Can you please write an one shot where J/S have lots of angry sex? I am dying for it.

His heart pounded, his breath was ragged, the muscles in his diaphram and thighs burned with every movement, but still he persevered, thrusting with a single-minded intensity. Her legs were cinched tight around his waist, heels digging into his arse to urge him on. He hissed at the sting as her nails scoured down his back, following a familar trek where the skin was already broken in places, perhaps not dissimilar to the teeth impressions in his shoulder, the red and purple marks left by greedy lips and hands across both their skin. 

Digging her fingers into his shoulders to gain leverage, she threw her weight into turning them over, levering above him to sink back down. The only sound filling the room besides the grunts of moans of their pleasure and exertion was the slap of skin against skin every time their bodies met, as she rode him hard and fast. 

He bucked as she dragged her nails down his chest, growling low in his throat before he suddenly reared up, his arms locking around her to press her hard against him. 

He paused for a moment, testing, and a whine rose up in her throat in disapproval of his sudden stilling. He didn’t hesitate, her legs wrapping around him just in time to hold on, as he bucked hard against her. He moved in firm, sharp thrusts, and her fingers gripped hard at his shoulders, clutching at him.

She mewled with approval when a particularly deep push hit a spot that made all the difference. He cupped her rear, lifting her until he was thrusting against that sensitive point again and again. She could feel the pleasure building, the hot coil in her abdomen tightening more and more. And then, she exploded.

She stilled above him, her head thrown back as she clenched hard around him. The glow enveloping her in her satisfaction filled him with wholly masculine pride, his loud, approving growl sending a responsive thrill through her, her breath stolen as he turned them back over to seek his own release. 

He hooked his arms under her knees, lifting her hips to deepen his thrusts. He kept moving, taking her hard and fast as Sansa writhed beneath him in encouragement, sinking her teeth back into the juncture between his neck and shoulder to give him one final boost before he was catapulting into climax. 

Dizzy and exhausted from what must have been the third or fourth orgasm the red-haired vixen beneath him had managed to wring from his body, Jon collapsed beside her, his chest heaving as he stared dazedly at the ceiling. He was ready to laugh incredulously when she straddled him a moment later, but there was little sexual in her manner, only attention-getting. Serious blue eyes stared down at him, lips pursed. 

“The next time you kneel, Jon Stark, it had best be for me and only me. And  _only_ in this chamber.”

“Aye, my queen,” he wearily agreed, so completely and utterly hers in that moment (and for all moments onward) that he would have given anything she asked (save something that came at the expense of their people). “Only for you. Only ever you.”


	22. Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa blames herself for what happened to their family. Jon is having none of it.

Their marriage was one of convenience, but it was also an arrangement built on a base of easy, genuine affection, lending their relationship a strength most nascent highborn marriages weren’t lucky enough to have. They were comfortable together, but as was the case with most scarred and haunted by their pasts, there were troubled shadows beneath the surface.

The crypts were cold and eerily quiet, but Jon was a reassuring, steadfast warmth at her back. They would have to wait for spring before they could commission Robb, Mother, and Rickon’s statues, and for now she had her faces only in her memory as she lit extra candles beneath her father and Aunt Lyanna’s stone visages. Sansa felt tears prick her eyes as she watched her new husband gaze pensively at her father’s face. The words came spilling from her lips before she could stop them.

“If I die, don’t bury me here with my family. This place is not for some stupid girl who let her family die. Bury me somewhere else.”

Jon stared at her for a long moment, and then he was pulling into his arms, stroking her hair and pressing kisses to her temple and forehead. “Sweet girl, I don’t want to hear any such nonsense ever coming from your lips again. You were a child, an innocent, who was manipulated and used. You only had the best of intentions. Nothing that happened to our family is your fault.” He pulled back just enough to kiss her softly. “I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes.”

Tears blurred her vision once more, but this time they were of a relieved variety, that he wasn’t turning her away, that he wasn’t blaming her. She didn’t yet believe all that befallen their family wasn’t her fault, but for now, Jon loved her, and that was enough.  

Anyway, Jon was going to tell her every day, wasn’t he?

Jon rubbed his nose against hers when he saw her thoughts drifting away again, kissing the tip of hers when it crinkled under his attention. “Besides, what sort of Lord of Winterfell would I be if I didn’t insist the Queen in the North was laid to rest with all those who had come before her?”


	23. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya calls out Jon on his decisions regarding Daenerys and his situation with Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon hasn’t been told the truth of his parentage yet, so he hasn’t had his Heroic BSOD about sleeping with Dany yet. Thus the mention of siblings.

Jon felt chagrined when Arya managed to shove him hard into the stone wall. He had at least fifty pounds on his little sister, but the force of the rage evident in the younger’s face was evidently power enough. He could only stare incredulously.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking when it comes to this dragon queen, whether you’re playing some game or you’ve just become that stupid, but I  _will not_ let you drag Sansa into your mess.”

“Arya, what does Sansa-”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. You want her!”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t lie to me. It’s insulting. You want her.  _Our sister_!” Winter-gray eyes, so like his own, burned into him accusingly. “The brother I remember wasn’t this selfish, greedy thing you’ve become, lusting after our sister after everything she’s been through when you already have another woman in your bed!”

That sparked anger in Jon’s blood. “What do you know about what’s she’s been through?! I was the one here! I was the one who was there for her!”

“I’m here now! She told me everything, Even how you shared Mother and Father’s chambers to keep the nightmares away. It makes me sick to think about you lying beside her,  _wanting her_ , your own flesh and blood.” She straightened, her back ramrod and her glare hard as iron. “I’m here now,” she fiercely repeated. “Nothing is going to hurt her again. Not even you.” _I owe her that much_ , she thought abashedly, pushing away her guilt in favor of glowering fiercely at her brother.  “You lay a finger on her, and I’ll run you through with Needle.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Jon in stunned silence, his mental defenses and denials crumbling away in the wake of Arya’s harsh truth.


	24. Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa confronts a misogynistic asshole.

Jon warily turned his head around at the sound of yelling, recognizing one of the voices all too well. He shoved his way through the rubbernecking crowd to find his girlfriend toe-to-toe with an unfamiliar man, their voices raising louder and louder as their argument intensified. Flushed nearly as red as the hair on her head, Sansa braced her hands against her hips, quite literally growling in her frustration.

“Call me ‘honey’ one more time, you misogynistic neanderthal!”

It was disturbing how the stranger managed to sneer and leer at the same time. “Go make me a sandwich, sweetheart. You’re getting a little emotional.”

A foreboding flare to her nostrils and Jon approached, stopping nearby but not getting between them. “You should step back,” he told the man plainly.

Proving himself to be as stupid as Sansa’s tone had implied, the other man looked him over and scoffed. “Why? Planning something?”

“Nope,” Jon replied, taking half a step back. He had done his due diligence and tried to warn the moron. “Not me.”

Before either man could blink, Sansa had moved swiftly, jerking her leg up to jab her knee directly between her adversary’s legs. Jon instinctively winced, watching with morbid fascination as the stranger’s face turned alarmingly pale, then tinging with green.

Sansa crowed in triumph, so beautiful in her righteous fury Jon was momentarily distracted again, knocked back to his senses when he remembered the man she’d just assaulted was built like a linebacker. He grabbed her hand, tugging urgently as Sansa quickly caught on, the two of them taking off like a bat out of hell.

They ran until their lungs burned, Jon wearily collapsing against the brick side of a coffeeshop. He stared at his companion with incredulous admiration. “You’re amazing,” he proclaimed breathlessly.

Sansa smiled wryly, giving his hand a squeeze as she joined him against the wall. “Still sure you want to marry me?”

“Gods, yes.” He dipped his head to press his lips to hers, his wonderful, brave, fiery fiancee stealing his breath all over again as she twined her arms around his neck, taking control of the kiss.

Still sure, she had asked. He’d never been more certain.


End file.
